


The Year Sins Were Comitted

by noticeablyinconspicuous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 10:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noticeablyinconspicuous/pseuds/noticeablyinconspicuous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Victory, Two losses, Three Stories. Set after defeat of the Leviathans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Year Sins Were Comitted

**Author's Note:**

> For the beginning, I made a slightly different ending of the Leviathans. This is the first fanfic I've written for Supernatural. Comments, constructive criticism, and feedback is much appreciated!

 

Week One

 

“Dean,” Sam’s eyes widened, the throbbing effect was steadily becoming overwhelming. Dick Roman stood, blessed weapon pierced in his monster throat, laughing. His true form flashed in and out before he gave one more wicked smirk and then;

Everything exploded.

 

**Sam**

 

_Dean_ the words died in Sam’s throat. In an instant, Dick was gone and so were Dean and Castiel. “Funny isn’t it?,” Sam spun to the only soul left, Crowley stood amusement on his face, “I was planning to kill you both after this is over,” Crowley shrugged, “which come on, I know is one in the same with you boys. But I suppose this changes my plans a bit.” He took a step closer and Sam shifted, “So what now you’re going to kill me?” he bitterly laughed. “Kill you? Heavens no. Or hell.” Crowley flicked his hand, as if to wave away such an absurd idea, “Sorry Moose, you've certainly got a lot on your plate right now. It looks like you are well and truly alone.” And with that, he was gone too.

 

Sam didn’t really remember the next few days after that, it was more of a blur. He just kept driving.

 

“Excuse me sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” A blonde bartender sauntered closer. Sam lifted his head slowly, feeling slightly dizzy from his last order of beer. Thankful for the dim lights at the moderately cheap bar, he blinked away the hazy feel of passing out. “Sorry why is that?” he asked the bartender, words slightly slurred.

She gave him a sympathetic smile, “Sir, we happen to be closing in 10 minutes.” She looked him over, seeming to feel confident for making the decision of waking up the nearly passed out wayfarer. Sam shook his head, “Oh. What time is it?”

“Almost 3 AM sir”

He laughed bitterly, “Oh I’m sorry. Can-can you tell me where the nearest motel is?”

“There’s one 2 miles north from here, The Camper’s Carriage. Got a blue neon sign.”

“Thanks.” Sam stood from his booth and placed a $10 tip on the table, hauling himself to the Impala.

 

Half a mile before spotting the motel, there was a dimly lit gas station. Sam parked the growling Impala and routinely filled her up with gas. He stood, back against the shiny driver's seat, swaying slightly. He wasn't exactly fit to drive, but he could care less at this point. Arms crossed and eyes closed, he felt the cold air hit, contrary to the warm feeling in his stomach. Memories flowed in, filling in the cracks,  _Searching. Running. Driving._ He shook his head, trying to clear it away. His eyes landed on the convenience store. 

 

_Crying. Lots of crying._ Sam gulped down half a bottle of beer.

_Dean is gone._ Another gulp.

_Cas is gone._ Another.

_Bobby is gone._ _Even Meg is gone. Everyone is gone. No one is left. Your entire old life is a clean slate. Congratu-fucking-lations._

 He downed one last bottle before passing out in the dingy motel bed.

 

_You win Sam Winchester._

  

**Dean**

 

“Cas,” Dean looked back where his angel friend previously was. The growls were getting closer. “Cas?” his eyes frantically searched the dark forest, heart thumping, something other than the usual adrenaline was pumping through his veins; fear.

 Dean swallowed his words, _Cas._ The growls turned into roars. Giant wolf-like monsters leaped, ambushing the not-dead hunter. He immediately sliced his knife in the air. Keeping a solid stance, he swiftly pierced the air around him, attacking the nearest monsters with his distraught emotions weighing his blade.

 Eventually the roars turned into pathetic snarls. With more bloodthirsty growls coming closer, Dean ran.

 

Eventually he lost sight of the wolf-like monsters and he slowed his pace, surprised he wasn’t out of breath. _How long has it been?_ Dean glanced at the night sky. It was still dark, although it seemed to be lighter than before. There was a full moon, or what looked like one at least. A spherical blood red object was shining in the gloomy sky. _Just great._ he thought.

 

Dean eventually found out that he never got tired. He never got hungry either, but there wasn’t anything edible anyways. He did get thirsty though, but it felt more like an annoying prickling feeling than dehydration.  After the bloody moon went down and the sky was filled with light, the occasional growling ceased. Only to be replaced by bloodthirsty humanoid monsters; vamps, shifters, wraiths, ghouls, everything that went bump in the day was flinging themselves, eager to rip apart whatever in sight. One thing he could feel for sure, was pain.

  _Night day Night day Night._ Dean inscribed the tally marks on his weapon every period. It was the only thing keeping him sane. The time period shifts were excruciatingly slow, the darkness seemed to last for 15 hours while the light period lasted for 10.

 

Dean wandered into a small grove in the endless forest. There seemed to be a small cave, tired of having nothing to do but wait, he ventured inside. He called out, crude blade ready, “Anything home.” When nothing answered back, he grabbed a few twigs and wrapped it together with vines he found a mile back to create a crude torch. He lit it with his small lighter he always kept in his pocket, grateful he got zapped into this hellhole with everything in his inventory.

 

The small fire flickered hungrily in the darkness, Dean made sure to keep it in check. _The last thing I need is for more ugly bitches coming after me._ He scanned the area, satisfied for finally being alone, he decided he would finally sleep away the time. 

 After camouflaging the entrance, he sat down, back against the wall. He already put out the torch and placed it on the ground, a few inches away. He slowed his breathing until he could feel the closest to peace he’s had in a month. _Breathe in and out. In. Out. In._

 

The worst part about dreaming was hope.

 

 


End file.
